


End of the Line

by GloriousTyranny



Series: Skyrims Finest [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Backstory, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mind Rape, Sexual Violence, Skyrim Civil War, Smut, Thalmor, Torture, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9645575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriousTyranny/pseuds/GloriousTyranny
Summary: By chance, several individuals are caught crossing into Skyrim alongside a rebel group known as the 'Stormcloaks', this meeting would set several of these strangers on their own journeys in the harsh and cold country, some for the better and some for the worse.





	1. Unbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good ol' beginning, by chance, several strangers are caught crossing into the border of Skyrim Ala Imperial ambush.

-Dracus Mortem, High-Elf, former Thalmor battlemage, male-

It's cold, very cold. Old ragged clothes and linen wrapped shoes aren't the best to keep Skyrim's harsh weather at bay. The Altmer envied the strangers beside him, in their warm fur boots and blue padded cuirasses. Of course, he knew who they were and what they belonged to; the Stormcloaks, led by the Jarl of Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak. The rebels, true Nords fighting for Skyrims freedom from the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion's control. Speaking of which, the Elf looked at the carts both infront and behind the one he was riding in. Many, many Stormcloak rebels sat in the carts, the head cart housing a man in a black chainmail coat with a dark fur collar around the shoulders and front, Dracus identified him as the man himself, Ulfric Stormcloak. His stomach tightened, if he was with them, then there was only one way for this to end. The Imperials planned to send them all to the chopping block. End of the line. He considered trying to escape, about a hundred Imperial soldiers were spread out around him, of course, he would have the element of surprise, sure, but even with his magic and his training, they would overpower and kill him, or worse, he'd be sent back to the Thalmor. Deserting is a heavy offence and he'd seen their 'methods' of punishment before many a time. He shuddered, thankfully this was masked by his shivering and no one said anything. Not that anyone would've probably cared anyway. Some Nord a cart back mentioned something about being brothers in arms to a thief of sorts. Dracus gave a humorless chuckle, he'd heard that alot during his time as a apprentice interrogator, often it was said before they selected one to get rid of, or worse, use. 

The cart hit a bump and some of his fellow death row cartmates woke, poor slogs, too tired to realize death is near. A small towns entrance swung into view, he knew it as Helgen. All he knew past its name was that someone here made a curious mead mixed with berries, his stomach growled in hunger at the thought, a Imperial laughed when he heard it. Dracus always had a certain disdain for them, he didn't like Nords any better, but Imperials were just the worst type of business associates to him. Greedy. A father behind him has his son go inside as to not watch them be executed, causing him to look up. Another couple dozen Imperials were stationed in Helgen.

"Blast.." his voice was horse with cold and unuse. A blond Nord across from him looked up, his blue eyes looking into Dracus's. The Altmer raised a brow. "May I help you?"

The Nord looked at the carts and soldiers, a sad look in his eyes.  
"Not anymore, friend."  
Dracus dismissed him, looking away and at the walls. Maybe, just maybe he could conjure a atronach and scale the wall. A image of himself lying face first in the snow, bleeding to death as his back sported around twenty arrows, the snow stained red. Archers, they would hand him that fate if he didn't deal with them somehow. The carts stopped and soldiers were ordering them to get off them, he stood and hopped off, standing in a line as two Imperials read from a list of prisoners they had. He had a little something for the archers but he doubted his magicka stores could handle more then three spells in quick succession. A atronach for the soldiers, maybe two, three fireballs for the archers nearest to him, it'd be very risky from then. 

"Drac...hmm, you. step forward."

He looked up, he was at the head of the line, a Imperial in leather armor stood next to a steel plated commander woman, her sword sheathed but easily able to be drawn. The male looked him up and down, then talked quietly to his superior. she approached Dracus and slammed her knee into his gut, he doubled over, hands bound behind his back so he fell onto the mud and stone ground hard, her boot now on his back.

"You thought leaving was a good plan? Tell me, deserter, what kind of moron are you?" he voice was filled with malicious glee, enjoying her day as she bullied him. He was seething, they must've recognized him somehow, perhaps a dossier or something. He damned the Empire and their love of paperwork and lists. Footsteps neared him, then a surprise kick to the ribs made him cry out in pain. 

"Yes, this is him indeed, well done Auxiliary Malpis." A Altmer accented praised the female and Dracus gritted his teeth to hold back whatever words he definitely wanted to say. A pair of black gloved hands lifted him under his arms and he was faced with a small squadron of Thalmor agents, although none he knew. The female ordered her listkeeper to keep reading off names, meanwhile he was being searched, almost too thoroughly for his liking. He knew what was coming. The squadrons lead nodded to the others and he was escorted away from the main group, being taken into a nearby tower. One of the agents leaned close to him and whispered into his ear.

"Bad choice, we read your file, Battlemage. You wasted so much for nothing."

He stayed quiet, knowing talking back would get him nothing but trouble, the lead had the others pack up, preparing to leave. He guessed he'd be used on the cart ride to their embassy, then tortured and used more until he either gave in and begged to be reinstated as a agent, or killed. That was the 'lightest' course that could happen. A obviously new agent spoke to him.

"Why'd you leave?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his eyes. Dracus looked him over, he was a bit taller then this one, definitely more muscled. He humored the younger one. "Because racial supremacy and rape aren't my thing, but apparently 'Battlemage' is just a fancy title for the same damned job" he said this coldly, a smile on his lips that did not reach his eyes. The younger one gave him a slightly shocked look, then he was backhanded for speaking out. "Don't be afraid to hit him, Arain, he's bound." A older agent instructed. A commotion outside signaled the beheading's had begun, then he heard arrows being fired and a dull thud just after. One had tried to run and been met with the fate Dracus envisioned.

The agents apparently finished packing because they returned to him, grabbing under his arms and taking him out again, a small pile of bodies lay stacked to the side of the block, all headless. Dracus and the agents ended up stepping over the body of the one who tried to run, they loaded onto a nearby cart, him in the frontmost part near the driver, surrounded by the agents with the younger one near him. He looked back at the beheading block, the blond Nord from before being forced to kneel and place his head on the bloodied stump. The Nord only wore some light studded armor with iron gauntlets and boots. Maybe a mercenary the Stormcloaks signed on, poor thing thought Dracus.

The cart began to leave, Dracus still trying to find a way out of his situation, his thoughts where interrupted by yelling. He looked up to see a huge, dark shape soaring through the air, then swoop down and land on the tower infront of the large crowd around the block. Dracus couldn't believe his eyes, the beast had red glowing eyes and large black scales that formed cruel spikes on the back of his hide, his large wings looking as if they were voids in the sky. Someone yells out 'Dragon!' and several archers released a volley of arrows at the thing. It opens its maw, a sound echoes through the air, large and forceful as it rips towards the crowd. The arrows scatter like pieces of wheat against the force, and several Imperials and Stormcloaks alike are sent flying by it. The crowd disperses and scatters, the dragon breathing fire down upon them and taking off, roaring. The agents in the cart with him stared at awe at the sight, and that was Dracus's chance. He stood and lept out from the cart, hitting the ground running as he took off for a tower several Stormcloaks were flooding into. He heard the yells and spells being cast from the agents behind him, which urged him to run faster. He made it into the tower and a blond haired Stormcloak slammed the door shut behind him, barring it. 

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" he asked, a iron axe in hand at the ready as he glanced at the door being banged on by the Thalmor. The Rebels leader was cool in his actions, speaking calmly as he grabbed a sword from a nearby Imperial's corpse. "Legends don't burn down villages." He looked at Dracus, then at the blond Nord that was destined for the block previously "You two, move, now! Up the tower!". Dracus didn't question him, scrambling up and sprinting up the stone stairs, the Nord neck and neck with him, Dracus noted he wasn't bound as he was. The sounds of combat echoed up the tower, the Thalmor got in, or maybe the rebels let them in. It didn't matter now, as the two once prisoners ascended the tower, they spotted a few Stormcloaks working to get a window open when a rumble caught the tower, then a roar sounded out as the window and half the wall with it was smashed open, the dragons head there, breathing fire onto the doomed rebels, it took off quickly after, moving back to further slaughter the town.

The Nord looked at the Altmer, then at the sight below, a inn lay in tatters with the roof burned open, lots of thatch and softer debris lay below them on the floor of the inn. "We need to jump!" the Nord yelled, before grabbing him by the arm and leaping off, taking a yelling Dracus down with him.


	2. Progress to Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dragon, a Nord, A Altmer halfblood and a dying town walk into a bar...

Dracus was falling, namely, because the moron Nord had grabbed him and jumped without even asking. To his credit, they didn't have much time, nor did Dracus argue, he was just surprised that suddenly he was falling. His voice rang out, yelling in shock as they jumped, then his yell was cut short as he hit the ground, the Nord didn't hold onto him past the jump so he fell into the hard wood of the inn, definitely spraining his left arm and shoulder, which he fell on. The Nord was better off, landing on his feet then losing balance and falling onto his ass comically. Dracus wasn't amused. "Cut my damned bonds you idiot!" he shouted, wiggling onto his stomach then standing shakily, today wasn't his day. The Nord gave a quick glance around then grabbed a short iron dagger from a nearby table and moved to his back, his words accented like most Nords. "Stay still, don't want to cut you." he said, his words calm but laced with fear, the dragon roared outside and yells littered the air. Dracus felt his wrists become loose and he gave a groan of relief, rubbing his bruised wrists. The Nord looked at the far end of the inn, the stairs down were destroyed but there was enough space to hop down, Dracus was already taking the lead, favoring his sprained arm as he went down, the Nord behind him, the two exited the burning inn, coughing as smoke crowded the doorway out. 

Several Imperials were lined in a shield wall, swords ready as they advanced on the dragon, which was grounded infront of them. One of them, the one who was reading the list, called a child to him. The kid ran to him, crying and sniffling, leaving behind a man who lay on the ground to the dragons left. The dragon breathed fire at the Imperial shield wall, scorching them, it then turned and stomped on the man who was on the ground, crushing the air from him and killing him instantly, leaving a gory mess behind. It then spread its wings and takes off. The list keeper spotted them, waving them over. "You two! follow me, we gotta make it into the keep!" he yelled, running between some rubble and a ruined house, the Nord followed him, Dracus doing the same, picking up a fallen Imperials shield. His right hand glowed with magic as a sword materialized in his hand, glowing a light purple and transparent. The three where about to pass into a clearing where a large number of Imperials were firing at the dragon, when suddenly it landed on the building to their immediate left, the Imperial quickly pushing them to hug the wall with a arm as the dragon breathed fire at the clearing, not noticing the three right below him.

It took off just after, and the three continued to the clearing, turning to run under a stone archway, a blonde Stormcloak faced them, iron axe in hand, the same from the tower. The Imperial knew him apparently, calling him by name.

"Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of our way!" he snarled at him, Dracus noted they must have had history prior to this. His disdain of the Empire took hold and he bashed the Imperial over the back of the head with the shield he had, causing him to stumble over in shock, then he walked to the Stormcloak, standing beside him, making his allegiances clear. "We're escaping Hadvar, you're not stopping us this time." he nodded to Dracus, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. The Nord looked between Hadvar and Ralof, then took off on his own as the dragon swooped overhead, the nord soon disappearing in the chaos. Hadvar stood, drawing his sword, Ralof readied his axe and Dracus stood, shield ready defiantly. Hadvar growled, realizing the situation was about to turn worse for him then anyone else if he fought them here, he shook his head, taking off to the keep. "Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" he said as he entered. Ralof looked at Dracus as he began to run into a different part of the keep "You, come with me.". Dracus followed, glancing back at the scene, which seemed to move in slow motion as he took it all in. The dragon swooping down, maw agape and bloodied from his sacking of the town and slaughter of the soldiers. Arrows flying through the air, bouncing off the beasts hide ineffectively. He was pulled inside the keep, falling onto his back as he lost his balance. Ralof closed the door, slamming it shut then looking at the Altmer on the ground. He crossed his arms, axe hanging loosely off of his belt. 

"Get it together, elf, I won't keep saving your hide." he said, a condescending tone in his voice, Dracus scowled, standing and brushing himself off, his bound sword gone, he had let go of it when he fell, thus it was dispelled. 

"I didn't realize Nords were as racially uptight at the Thalmor, thanks for that awakening." he shoved past him, moving to one of the three ways out of the small circular room, a barred door that lead into a hallway, locked. He cursed and moved to the door opposite of the barred one, another of the same type, locked as well. This was when he noticed the Stormcloak crouching over the body of one of his comrades, dead in a chair, his upper half leaning onto it, a large couple wound in his lower side, near his liver was stained with massive amounts of dark red, most likely stabbed before he crawled into the keep and bled out. Dracus heard something, down the hallway of the first barred door he checked, footsteps, Ralof heard it a moment later as evidence from his standing and drawing his axe. "See if you can keep up." he said snidely. Dracus resummoned the bound sword and readied himself. Two Imperials came running around the corner and down the hallway to them, drawing their weapons and opening the door, Dracus recognized one as the bitchy commander from earlier, the one who kneed him. He strode forward, dodging a swing from the other soldier with her, he quickly feinted a swing at her neck, when her shield raised he ducked and stabbed up into her stomach. Ralof dispatched the other, hacking into his neck and face savagely, sending gore here and there. The female gasped at the impalement, looking at him with a shocked, almost confused look, he answered her by twisting the blade and ripping it out, slightly downward so her stomach split, the leather around the wound staining red as she fell to her knees, her hands going to the wound, ineffectively trying to stop the blood, she paled slightly and fell to her side, shuddering a final time. The Altmer checked her pockets and found a key, which he tested on the barred door opposite of them, success. The two proceeded down the stairs, the keep rumbling as a cave in cut the lives of a couple unidentified solders short in the far down hallway. 

Ralof shrugged "I suppose that way isn't a option, how about here?" he jerked a thumb at a door nearby the stairs they descended, Dracus opened it and spotted two Imperials, one waiting while the other stuffed things into a bag, both had their backs to them. He began sneaking in, motioning for Ralof to stay still, he placed one foot infront of the other, his footwraps muffling his steps, the one he was closest to wore heavy steel plate, another commander. He quickly reached up, covering his mouth and stabbing through his chest, definitely piercing a lung if not his heart, his hand covering the mouth became slick with blood as the commander tried to scream in pain, his voice drowned with blood and pain. The second turned, seeing this and going to draw his blade when Ralof's axe found its way into his skull, braining him. He twitched and fell, one of his eyes bulging slightly. The Nord walked forward and pried his axe from the soldiers skull, Dracus dropped the commander, wiping his hand on his ragged pants. 

"Looks like a storeroom." Dracus thought outloud, Ralof picked up the sack the first hand and went through it, tossing Dracus a small red potion, a healing potion. Dracus knew these well, they were magically induced, able to reknit skin and regrow organs if they were consumed in enough quantities, the one he had was enough to maybe seal a stab from a dagger, maybe stabilize a sword slash. Ralof kept one for himself and took a apple from the bag, biting into it ravenously. Dracus felt a pang in his gut, they hadn't been fed correctly most of the ride, getting scraps and such from the soldiers. food later, he thought, grabbing the bag and kicking open on of the many barrels in the room, he began to stuff it with potatoes and apples, even a few tomatoes. hefting it over his shoulder with his free hand, he dropped the shield and followed Ralof out of the room, proceeding down a hallway with him, he heard voices ahead, resummoning the bound sword, he readied himself as he and Ralof entered a room that had a bridge going over a small underground creek, lit up with torches and sunlight from cracks in the roof. Around four Imperials, one of them a steel plated commander, spotted them and drew their weapons.

"Here we go again, eh elf?" Ralof looked at Dracus, axe drawn.

"Oh I despise this place." He answered back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I get any details about Helgen and its keep wrong, forgive me, it's been awhile since I played the opening.


	3. Free at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ending of the main games 'prologue' and the actual beginning of the true story.

The first Imperial, the one nearest to them, charged, sword drawn and over his head in a downward swing. Dracus stepped back as Ralof grabbed his wrist, stopping the blade and hacking into his neck, Dracus took the opportunity to step forward and advance on the others, who were now closing ground on them.

He sidestepped a slash, then ducked from another, his bound blade finding its way up through ones neck as Ralof took the other out. Three more remained in their field of vision, two holding bows, the nearest being a steel plated commander armed with a sword and shield, who was sneering at them, shield raised. Ralof charged at him, his axed swinging for his side, only to be knocked aside by the commanders shield, two arrows buried themselves into Ralof's left leg, making him fall onto his right knee. Dracus darted forward, going to stab at the commanders exposed neck, only to give a pained groan as a arrow pierced his shoulder, the bound blade merely giving the imperial a singe across his neck as he missed, the blades purple flames nicking him. The commander then shoved him to the ground using the shield as a ram, another arrow missed him, hitting the ground and skidding off elsewhere, Dracus gave a growl and began to rise, only to be kicked in the face, a nice opening along the bridge of his nose, blood gushing from the nostrils, he used the momentum to roll backwards to gain distance, his vision a little blurry. 

_**'not broken but definitely hurt, that arrow wont do much as long as I don't aggravate it'**_ he thought. He raised his own shield, crouched slightly as the bowmen seemed to be aiming to disable him. He heard a ruckus behind the commander, who even turned to look behind him to see what was going on. Ralof had apparently snuck up on the bowmen and was hacking one to death, the other clutching a bloody stump where his left hand, notably, his bow holding hand would be. Dracus took the opportunity to slash the commanders neck, nearly beheading him, his head hanging up by a few small strings of sinew and skin, blood gushing from the wound as he fell. Ralof stood, bloody from the first bowman he killed the arrows causing small dots of crimson to stain his Stormcloak attire. He grabbed the second bowman by the neck, braining him with his axe, breaking it off as the wooden handle and leaving the metal head in the bowmans skull, he then looked back at the Altmer. 

"Yeah, I hate this place too, let me check those wounds." he said, making his way back to him. Dracus shook his head, pulling the arrows out, a golden light appeared in his palm, weaves of silken magic going into the arrow wounds, closing them. Ralof tilted his head at that, Dracus noted the look and got a pang of amusement at the Nord's inept knowledge of magic. "This is a basic healing spell, magic, like my sword" the elf explained, nodding to his bound blade. The Nord nodded, pulling the arrows from his leg. "Mind using some o' that on me then?" he asked. Dracus gave a nod, using the healing magic on him, soon the wounds were closed and gone. He tested his leg, bending and extending it a few times.

"I suppose those healing potions are backup then? In case you get too hurt to do that?" he asked, Dracus shrugged, his magicka pool could handle light healing spells, at most he could even reattatch a limb as long as it wasn't too bad. Regrowing someones limbs was another matter entirely, although if he lived long enough he could learn to do such a thing. Back to the matters at hand, he took the lead, crossed a few bridges to the exit, some stairs down. Ralof followed behind, a iron dagger in hand instead of his now useless axe handle. The two descend the stairs, moving to a cave like room with light gleaming from the exit. Dracus began to dash for it, not noticing the large black bear he had woken with his loud footsteps.

"Elf! Your left!!" called out Ralof, too late. The bear stood on its hind legs, swiping at Dracus, who mid sprint tucked and rolled, scrambling to stand after. The bear growled at him, back on all fours as he lumbered towards him, teeth dripping with saliva. Dracus backed up, his foot catching a stone, causing him to fall onto his back, the bear standing again and coming down to try and crush him. Ralof was running to him, although he'd be too late. Dracus raised his hand in a mad panic, a flare erupting from his hand as a fireball shot from it, exploding in the bears face, melting the skin and burning the fur. It gave a meek whimper as it fell, hitting the ground next to Dracus with a thud, exhaling a final time. The Nord helped him up, Dracus very shaken from that, adrenaline pumping faster then ever.

"To hell with this fucking place" He said, Ralof giving a snort as his outburst, which only made the Altmer growl, his face and ears turning crimson. "It's not funny!" he yelled "I could've died!". Ralof looked at him, laughing "We both could have died, ahahaha!" he held his sides. Dracus glared and took the lead again, moving to the exit of the cave, where the sun shined through brightly, albeit at a slower, more careful pace. The two emerged, the sun was warm on their skin and bright in their eyes, Dracus raising a hand to shield his from it. Ralof gave a relieved sigh, then grabbed Dracus's shoulder, pulling him down. The elf began to protest, then stopped dead as a huge black shadow flew overhead. A small roar sounding from it as the dragon flew off into the distance, leaving his victory smoldering and ruined.

"...should be safe now, sorry." he stood, helping the other up. Dracus brushed some dirt off his ass and looked into the sky after the dragon, watching it fade from view. He nodded slowly "Its fine, don't worry about it. I just need to find something better then these rags." he patted the stained tunic and pants he was wearing, his actual equipment taken from him by the Imperials. Ralof nodded, walking through the brush and scenery. "If you visit Riverwood on of these days, talk to my sister, Gerdur or her husband, Hod, they'll offer you a bed after I tell them what happened. Be safe friend." He smiled and turned, walking off along a dirt path. Dracus nodded back, walking his own way up the hill, right of Ralof's path, up the hill, looping back to Helgen. He had no plans of going to Riverwood, he was free, the Thalmor would hopefully assume he died in the attack. That meant he could travel with impunity as long as he kept a low profile. He heard the crackle of fires as he neared Helgen, ruined and destroyed. He walked through the main gate, one of the doors gone, splintered into the ground. The small town was empty, save for corpses of man, woman and child alike. He shook it off, walking into the destroyed in to scavenge, finding some potatoes and leeks. He added them to the sack he had, using one of the shield straps to tie it around so he could carry both at the same time. Some time later, he had searched the dressers that weren't either buried or in cinders and found a tunic with leather bits added protection along with a pair of breeches. The breeches were a big big but a belt was already fastened onto it so he was able to adjust them accordingly. He then grabbed his shield and the sack attached, taking a small steel dagger and tucking it into his belt loop, making his way out of the ruined town and into the land of Skyrim, free at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this, some of the details of the keep escaped me, like I said, but all in all I think it turned out nicely. More to come soon ^.^


End file.
